I Against I
by Larissa
Summary: Set amongst the ruins of Blade II, Scud reflects on his choices just before betraying Blade and Whistler.


Caveat Lector: Out of all the people who don't belong to me, these guys are on the top of the list. Scud, Blade, Whistler, and all the rest belong to Marvel Comics, who really should share since they already have an entire stable of superheroes that we're not allowed to touch. This isn't real, it didn't happen, my reality is sadder for it.  
  
This story is getting a PG-13 rating for language because Scud's got a filthy fucking mouth. Wonder where he gets it from.  
  
Summary: Scud reflects on his choices just before betraying Blade and Whistler.  
  
I Against I By Larissa  
  
My friend B., he's a stoic motherfucker. Never complains about anything, never asks for help, never even says "Ouch" when someone tries to stake his half-breed ass. Just keeps on going and going, like a goddamn half-vampire Energizer bunny, hunting down those blood-sucking motherfuckers like it ain't no thang. Daywalker, killer, scourge of the vampires, vampire boogeyman, the man with a plan. He's the John Shaft of the vamp world; that Blade, he's a bad mutha. Shut yo mouth! I'm just talkin' about Blade.  
  
Christ, you have any idea how fucking irritating it is working for a guy like that?  
  
I mean, here I am doing my best to survive the future--a future where humans are either pets or fucking cattle, and I am not going to be vamp food, all right? Let me just make that clear right now--and he comes on all Dudley Do-Right with an attitude. Kill the vamps, protect the humans, save the free fucking world.  
  
You think any of the humans give a shit, or even know, about what he's doing for them? You think they know he puts his life on the line for them every single night, staking vampires, staking out vampire clubs, trying to destroy the vamp clans, so that they can rest easy every night without a pair of fangs sinking into their soft flesh and draining them dry? You think they care?  
  
No, they don't fucking care. As long as they have their fatty foods, regular sex, loud music and flickering television images, the whole world could fall apart tomorrow and they wouldn't give a rat's ass. They only panic when the cable goes out and they're left alone in the dark, silence their only companion, and they come face-to-face with their worst nightmares and their own mortality.  
  
That's not gonna be me, no fuckin' way. I didn't survive living on the streets my whole life to die in an alleyway at the hands of a vamp. It's kill-or-be-killed, and I'd rather kill. Fuck this honor shit anyway.  
  
Too defensive, right? Yeah, well, you'd be defensive too if you had Pappy riding your ass about everything. Cocksucker has even more attitude than Blade, if that's possible, and he's louder about it than my man B. Still, I kinda dig him, you know? He's got balls for such an old guy, and he's pretty handy with a gun or a blowtorch. You have to like a guy like that. Too bad he's gonna be vamp bait when B. catches Nomak.  
  
That's eating me up a little inside, I admit it. When I took this deal with Damaskinos, that fucking Nosferatu wannabe, I was doing it to survive the invasion. The guy was messing with genetics and DNA, man, shit that would create an army of super-vampires. No more fear of the light, no more silver bullets caving your chest in, no more fatal allergies to garlic. He was creating the Six Million Dollar Vampire and I wanted in. So, I became a familiar, and fuck you and your opinions. I did what I had to do to survive.  
  
So why do I feel like shit about the whole thing?  
  
Maybe it's because I was starting to feel like I belonged in Blade's little operation, like I'd found a place where my skills were needed. It's not like the vamps wanted me for a higher purpose; just get B. and Pappy to go along with everything so they could get The Big Ugly under control. Just a little failed security, a dud bomb, a false friendship, and you can get everything you've ever wanted, Scud.  
  
Yeah, everything I ever wanted, but those fuckers never tell you that getting what you want means losing your soul in the process. I was built for survival, not betrayal, especially not when I have to betray B. He's been nothing but good to me from the moment he saved my life from those two crazy bitch vampires.  
  
I didn't lie about that much at least. They were carving me up pretty good when he bust the door down, sliced 'em and diced 'em with his super-duper Excaliber. Disintegrated into ashes right in front of me, and I almost cried with gratitude. Me, crying like a fucking pussy, but he'd saved me from being slaughtered like an animal, so I joined his battle against the vampire hordes.  
  
Then one night when I was out on reconnaissance for B., Cueball-- I mean, Damaskinos, his lawyer cornered me in an alleyway and recruited me for the job. Christ, you thought vamps were bad. This fucker was fully human on the outside and a total snake on the inside. I may be a vampire's pet, but at least I still had my humanity. Or had, until I agreed to give B. up to Damaskinos like Judas gave up Christ to the Roman soldiers. Still, that fucker only wanted thirty pieces of silver; I at least held out for life eternal.  
  
Well, no use bitching about what's done now. I made my choices and I'm going to stick to them. Time to let B. know the bomb won't work; Reinhardt no go boom for him. Time to let him know whose side I'm really on.  
  
The End 


End file.
